


Homer and Helen

by belovedmuerto



Category: Highlander - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-07-10
Updated: 2000-07-10
Packaged: 2018-12-18 06:02:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11868195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	Homer and Helen

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

Homer and Helen by Elizabeth

_Homer and Helen_

By Elizabeth 

Of course, Methos and Molly were lounging on his couch. Who else could it have been? Why had the Scot even wondered? 

Duncan MacLeod sighed and hung up his coat in its usual place. It was cold in the loft. He told himself to turn up the thermostat later, right before he noticed that one of the windows were open, letting in a quite brisk October breeze. Duncan rolled his eyes. This too was their doing. 

Neither of the ancients looked at him. _Oh, certainly, make yourselves right at home,_ Duncan thought with a tinge of sarcasm. _Mi casa es su casa, and all that._ The Highlander rolled his eyes in their general direction and went over to the kitchen. 

He was starving, not to mention still feeling just a little dehydrated after Joe's annual Halloween party the night before. He'd awoken with a terrible hangover that morning; thankfully, it hadn't lasted long. As Duncan searched the cupboards, he wondered if either of the older immortals had felt the effects of the party that morning. Both of them had been pretty far gone by the end of the evening. Molly and Amanda had started belly dancing on the bar. Methos had been playing old Beatles songs on Joe's electric guitar. Duncan smiled at the memories; glad he hadn't done much more than pass out. Richie had disappeared with a young, flame-haired woman dressed in an elaborate Elizabethan costume. Duncan rolled his eyes at the younger man's youthful transgressions, remembering fondly his own. Speaking of whom, if Richie had been by that morning, Duncan was sure to need to hit the grocery store again, although he'd just been earlier that week. Richie always seemed to eat even more after a night drinking. 

Duncan shrugged and moved over to his fridge. Just his luck, it turned out that there was a bowl of pasta left over from his lunch yesterday. Duncan dumped it on a plate, covered it in wax paper, and stuck it in the microwave for a minute. 

While the ingenious device did its work, the Scot turned and watched the two old immortals. It was quite a picturesque moment. They were lying together on his couch. Molly was sort of half on top of, half next to her younger friend. She appeared to be asleep, using Methos' shoulder as a pillow. He had his arms around her and was holding a book that rested on her stomach, which MacLeod could see rise and fall with each breath she took. Methos was reading the book aloud to her. Duncan didn't know what language it was the older man was speaking in, but it sure as hell wasn't English. Or anything else the Highlander recognised off the top of his head. 

The harsh beep of the microwave jerked MacLeod away from the image of the two friends. He took the plate out of the machine and put it on the counter. Then he smothered the pasta in butter and Parmesan cheese, got out a fork, then took his snack into the living room and sat down across from them. 

As he ate, Duncan wondered what the hell language it was Methos was speaking so softly in. Whatever it was, it was all Greek to him. He also wondered where his camera was. Nowhere to be found, unfortunately. Probably in storage, with no film in it. Dammit, a picture of them would have been great framed. 

A few minutes after Duncan finished eating, the old man stopped reading. He shut the book and dropped it very gently to the floor. 

'Good afternoon, MacLeod,' he said very quietly. Methos was careful not to move a muscle, not to jar or otherwise move Molly in any possible way. 

'Why are you here, Methos?' Duncan replied. 

For a moment, Methos looked very thoughtful. 'You know what? I'm not quite sure. It may have been Molly's idea.' 

'Oh, were you not too coherent this morning?' 

'Mac, I'm never coherent in the morning. 

'Ah.' A moment, then, 'What is that you were reading?' 

' _The Odyssey._ I used to have it memorized. I must be slipping.' 

'Well, you know what they say. The memory goes first.' 

A faint smile touched the silent woman's lips, unbeknownst to the men talking over her. 

'MacLeod, who do you think first uttered those words?' 

'Molly?' 

'Is that your final answer?' 

'Ah, so the World's Oldest Man does catch a taste of pop culture every now and again. But _Who Wants To Be A Millionaire_? I would think you of all people would have better taste than that.' 

Methos gave a half shrug, careful still not to jar his sleeping teacher. 'I like trivia?' He pointed at the book. 'This was pop culture at one time, MacLeod. Now look at it. A masterpiece, a classic! If only Homer had known.' 

Duncan rolled his eyes. 'She asleep?' 

'What do you—' 

'No,' Molly replied, cutting off her friend. 

'There's your answer, MacLeod,' Methos added. 

'Thanks,' Duncan replied. 

Molly smiled, but didn't open her eyes. 'You two bicker like an old married couple,' she observed. 

'So do you two,' Duncan retorted. 

'We are an old married couple, MacLeod,' the woman reminded. Her best friend chuckled. 'Can you boast that?' she added. 

'No. Thank God.' 

Molly opened her eyes finally. 'Aw, who wouldn't want to be married to my cutie?' She snuggled a little closer to her "cutie." 

'He has a big nose,' MacLeod offered as an excuse. 

Methos snorted. 'Gee, thanks,' he replied dryly. 

'It gives him character,' Molly proclaimed. 'It fits his face.' 

'He's a snide, cynical bastard, Molly.' 

'Gee, thanks,' Methos repeated. 

'Well Duncan, if you were five thousand years old, you'd be snide and cynical too. And the bastard part-well, that just runs in the family.' 

MacLeod laughed. 

'What?!' Methos mocked outrage. 'Bitch!' 

'See what I mean? Runs in the family. Always did. I have a touch of it myself, at times.' 

Methos got serious all of a sudden. 'Did it really?' 

Molly rolled her eyes. 'No, of course not. It's just you,' she said in an extremely patronizing tone of voice. 

'Oh.' 

'You're so gullible, Methos.' 

'Am not.' 

'Yeah. And pigs fly.' 

'Really?' 

'Oh don't even do that one, Methos.' 

Methos pouted, but gave up the game. 

Molly jumped to another topic. She picked up the book and looked at it. 'I can't believe-' she began. 'Me—that guy-. Ew.' 

Methos smiled. 'Like I've been telling you since the—' 

'Wait a minute,' Duncan cut in. 'Molly, you were Helen of Troy?' 

Molly looked sheepish. 'It's not something I like to brag about. I was having an off decade. Guess I just didn't feel like being sane. Besides, Homer had it all wrong. I really wasn't all that bonkers. Really.' 

'Methos, I thought you said Helen of Troy didn't have that great a face, and she only launched—' 

'What? He said what!' 

'I was trying to prove a point!' Methos defended. 

'Uh huh, and I suppose that you also said you know how tall Nero was. You hated Nero! You wouldn't even go to Rome when he was emperor!' 

'I was trying to prove a point,' Methos repeated calmly. 

Molly jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. Methos groaned. 

'What about Caesar?' MacLeod asked. 

Molly sighed. 'Oh geez. Don't get the boy started on Caesar. Can we say 'Et tu Brute'?' 

'I was not!!!!' Methos yelled. 

Molly laughed. 'It's so easy to get to him,' she bragged. 

MacLeod shook his head in disagreement. 

'Well, you just don't know how to do it. I'll give you a few pointers later, ok?' 

MacLeod nodded eagerly. 

'You'll do no such thing!' Methos protested loudly. 

'Oh shut up, you. Go memorize your epic, dammit.' 

'Make me, miss craziest woman in the Med.' 

'I can't believe you! At least I didn't have any blind poets writing entire damned epics about me!' 

'You were Odysseus?' the Highlander jumped in. 

'Oh gods,' Methos moaned. 

'Oh, ho ho! Yes he was. Do you want to hear about the arrogance of this man? The ego trip he was on? This is great. You'll love this one.' 

MacLeod smiled and leaned forward. 

'Molly, no! Please, no!' 

'Not only was the bloody epic about him, he wrote it too! How conceited is that? I mean, damn, no wonder I threatened to take his head myself!' 

Molly and Duncan shared a long laugh at Methos' expense. Duncan just couldn't get over the fact that Methos had been Odysseus and Homer. He was practically in tears. 

'You were Homer?!' he finally managed to get out. 

'It's amazing, really, how generous Greeks could be, especially when you knew how to play them,' Methos stated calmly, trying to save face. 

'Yeah, you write a few lines about an old mythic hero, whom you happened to be, play blind for a while, wander the street offering your verse for money or food, then come home to me and the villa at night.' 

Methos shrugged. 'It was fun. And I don't see any of your work being taught as a classic today.' 

'Three words for you, darlin: Romeo and Juliet.' 

Methos laughed. 'Oh gods.' 

'What?' MacLeod inquired. 

'We are not going to discuss that, Duncan. Just let it drop. Please.' 

'Oh I don't know,' Methos began, but she quelled him with an elbow to the stomach. 

* * *

© 2000   
Please send comments to the author! 

07/10/2000 

* * *


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